Just like you taught me
by re-fiction
Summary: mathilda is grown up and has been following in Leons footsteps as a cleaner. She is about to under go a simple hit when memories of past experiences come back. This is my first story.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The past and the surpassed…

Mathilda reached the roof of the old apartment building, it seemed peaceful as she walked across to the north east corner of the roof, and laid down her mat. A solemn, cool evening breeze blew her short, dark hair across her face as she looked over the streets below. Leon's voice echoed in her mind like it was the only thought in her head.

_(Leon)"Position…"_

Now 25 years old, she had finished school what seemed like a lifetime ago, she promised herself and Tony that she would stay at school and that she _would_ finish, and came by Tony's restaurant like clockwork to collect her money. After she left, she pleaded with Tony that she was still eager to walk in Leon's shoes and take up cleaning as a profession. Heck, in between doing homework and school she would constantly exercise and test herself, becoming stronger, quicker and more cunning. She'd been doing this since she was twelve and for her it was like a religion.

She familiarised and mastered a large array of weapons from pistols, to shotguns, rifles, garrottes, knives and even her bare hands, which she found was always handy if she had her weapons removed. Her goal was to match Leon in every way possible, and then some more, to try and become as skilled, silent and ruthless as possible. Cleaning was all about proficiency, taking out the target with minimal disturbance and then becoming a ghost, disappearing into the crowd. No one was better at that than Leon but now she would surpass him. She had to if she wanted to live to see another day

Still, just because she wanted to be better than Leon didn't mean she didn't still look up to him if anything she owed everything to him, for keeping her alive, the cleaning lessons and of course he sacrificed his life to save her. He was a real hero for her, for a lack of a better term and it gave her strength that she couldn't build from working out. She followed his "rules" to the letter, like they were written in some holy book.

"_No women, no kids"… _Leon's voice echoed. That rule always stayed in her head, as if Leon was somewhere around, reminding her of one of his most important rules.

Finally after she turned eighteen Tony finally gave her a job, to take out some bastard who was supposedly selling weapons to some of the gangs near her home in little Italy. She was a bit careless at first, but she did better on the next job and the next, until there really wasn't a way to further herself without actually becoming a ghost. By twenty one, she was exactly where Leon was all those years ago, she was a cleaner and she was good at it.

She knelt down on the mat and laid her seemingly innocent, large briefcase down and opened it up, hearing the somewhat satisfying clicks of the locks opening, revealing its deadly contents. Leon's old rifle was locked into the case with worn, black leather straps. She never could throw it away. It was the only rifle she'd used and it became a part of her, she treat it like it was some connection to Leon like he was there with her when she took her shots, guiding them to the target.

"_Come to think about it, I've never missed with this rifle yet, and I don't intend to… Ever."_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Anything for Tony…

She loosened the straps with ease and carefully laid the rifles components down. As she did she made a mental checklist of the pieces: the two main body parts of the rifle itself, cleaned just yesterday by herself, a bipod attached, a magazine in which she loaded two, .270 calibre rounds with hollow-points so the round would deal the most damage on impact, a suppressor, and finally an mil-dot scope for when the client was far away, when wind and bullet drop will dramatically reduce accuracy.

She estimated the distance from the roof to the building the target would be going to; a lick over three hundred yards, she already zeroed the scope before she left so it was only a matter of the wind effecting the round now, and with little to no wind she was virtually set to shoot. Mathilda assembled the rifle at an inhuman speed, her hands sleek and trained and the movements natural and unrushed like breathing, working over the parts.

_(Flashback)_

The target is some big time drug dealer who Tony wanted taking out. Light work, but apparently if he six feet under it would make the streets a lot cleaner. He said that he would probably have a few guards, estimated at around six to ten of them. Mathilda studied the picture and memorized the face. When she saw the picture the man instantly reminded her of her father; black hair, round face and dull eyes that burned into her memory like a hot branding iron.

"_Makes him all the easier to kill"_ her thoughts told her through imaginary gritted teeth. She hated her father and wished that Stansfield hadn't wasted him in that hallway so that she could have done it. She hated him with every sense of the word and all of her being. He would hit her, ridicule her and treat her like something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Stansfield had killed her father because of a drug complication as well as the rest of her patched together family, her little four year old brother, the only one who really appreciated her and gave her a hug every day included in the unforgiving slaughter.

"He always checks into the same fancy hotel every Tuesday… tomorrow" Tony said "sorry to leave it this late but are you free on Tuesday?" he questioned

"You bet" she replied with a warm smile. "Anything for you Tony…"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Flickering flashbacks of old home movies…

The sniping spot was chosen excellently; not the most obvious spot which would have been from the hotel across the road, the building she was on was across the street and a block away, a bit of an strange position but well hidden and laying down near some old rusted pipes, which she guesses had something to do with the ventilation, made her practically impossible to spot. The fact the room was nearly a block away gave her ample time to get gone. The targets room was on the corner with clear view. She chose to wear something comfortable for the hit so she had plenty of freedom during the shot: black baggy trousers, a T-shirt, a long, black trench coat complete with round-framed shades.

Her watch ticked over to half six and her alarm beeped its alert. She quickly pressed a button and its warning fell silent.

"The target should be here any minute now" Mathilda spoke to herself quietly, pulling out a pair of binoculars and waited, watching for any signs of the target. A few minutes passed when a group of black cars arrived. Two cars parked in front of the hotel

"_Late…" _Mathilda thought as a smirk spread across her face then disappeared quickly; she had spotted her target. He stepped out of the front car along with three tall, well-built guards, black suits with a back shirt and a reddish tie, the target was wearing an expensive designer suit. Four more guards stepped out of the second car making it eight guards in total. She pocketed the binoculars and went prone and watched the group enter the hotel through her scope, but not before taking off her glasses, she preferred to shoot with them off as they felt uncomfortable when looking through the scope.

"_Third floor…big window on the corner_" said her thoughts counting the floors up and the rooms across to the corner. Maybe a minute passed when the target entered the room, her heart picked up the pace but gradually settled down after a little while. He was carrying a black case with him; she suspected it might contain drugs. She felt herself go numb, the same feeling she felt before every kill, must have been a way to stop herself from feeling empathy for the target and backing out, she wondered if Leon felt this when he went on a hit. Probably not, the years he'd spent doing it he more than likely lost that feeling more and more with every kill. During the five seconds of wondering the target had gone, she froze, hoping that she hadn't been spotted or missed her chance. Tens of seconds went by until he showed again putting her fears back to rest, her heart rate slowing. All of a sudden everything quiet, the sharp sounds of the traffic below softened and hushed, strange warmth on her right side came from nowhere and began to speak in a gravelly voice.

"_Keep calm... Don't take you're eyes off him... Breathe easy…watch his movement…"_

Visions of the jogger flickered in her mind like she was watching a black and white movie. She swore the jogger actually took the place of the dealer as she briefly blinked.

"_Try to feel his next movement…take a deep breath, hold it…"_

As if on cue she inhaled smoothly and held her breath, her lips trembled ever so slightly her face tingled with a warm sensation. Emotions flooded into her memory. Her mental self holding them back, damming the flow. The crosshairs lifted over the man's right eyebrow. He was now at the window looking out to the traffic below.

"…_now." _The voice commanded

She squeezed the trigger slowly until it snapped back like the trigger was made of glass. The kick of the shot, a dull force hit her shoulder softly, the bullet cracked out of the barrel, she felt the heat of the bullet as it went fizzing towards the target, he went down in silence as crimson liquid splattered out of the small, dark hole above his right eye. The last thing he probably heard was the crack of glass as the round penetrated the thin glass window.

It didn't matter now what he thought, he was dead and she needed to get going.

A poignant tear rolled down her cheek. She turned to quickly disassemble the rifle, place it back in the case, grab her mat and exited through the old roof door.

"_Just like you taught me…"_

She slipped her shades back on as she left the building and faded into the crowd


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: A lonely ghost, a moving shadow, Together again

The numbness didn't do away till a few minutes after, when the world around her sharpened and bustled with the beeping of taxi horns and other cars around her as she walked down the street to her apartment building. She was a ghost, completely anonymous.

At five to seven, Mathilda opened the door of her dainty apartment and sat her rifle case down on the little, rectangular table, taking the plant off the sill of the open window just above and placed it on the table she moved on to the bedroom. A dark man-like shape caught her eye in the chair in the dim corner on her right; she pulled out a 9mm Beretta, silenced, from her holster and found herself aiming at a lonely chair she releases the trigger finger slowly. The man who was sat there apparently disappeared, like a shadow moving into darkness.

She started to relax a little as she took a long hot shower her head up against the white tiles of the shower wall, her hands supporting, feeling the cool tile become warm. She turns the shower off and steps out feeling the cold air from the small, open window bite into her skin. Wrapping a towel around her for warmth she moves to the bedroom, dries herself and dons her 'sleeping clothes'; a tight black shirt and black combat trousers, and all black trainers. She puts her shades on once again and sits in the chair, a quick shiver to what could have been sat there just hours ago. She somehow knew it was Leon, or at least she wished it. At least they would have been together again like in the past, she wished that he would walk through the door after all the years and hug her but he never does and she knows he never will, but she still hopes.

She removes her gun from her holster and takes off the suppressor, chambering a round before she lays it on the small bedside table, next to the lamp, emitting a soft, dim glow. After a few seconds she switches the lamp off and closes her eyes and sits quietly in the dark, never moving and just waiting.

As she closes her eyes a man appears in front of her.

"Together again" she mumbles as she dozes of into sleep.


End file.
